


Empty Promises

by tommygirl



Category: Roswell (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-19
Updated: 2016-01-19
Packaged: 2018-05-15 00:53:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5765458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tommygirl/pseuds/tommygirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Maria thinks they go round-and-round with the fights, sometimes Michael isn't sure what to say, but maybe he should say something.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Empty Promises

**Author's Note:**

> Michael/Maria - set near the end of season two when they were back together, but before Alex died (because I like to pretend that never happened)  
> Much love to Steph for the quick beta on not one, but two stories this afternoon. She rocks my socks and is most definitely not a cluck-worthy chicken (which only she will get. heh). This is fluff, pure and simple, because that's what I wanted.

 

_I never said I was perfect  
but I can take you away_  
\- Garbage, drive you home

 

There must’ve been something in the air that night. It was the only thing that made sense when Michael thought about it later. Like during the heatwave when he found himself unable to fight the urge to kiss Maria and would have these vivid dreams where he could taste her cherry chapstick and the touch of her lips caused energy to surge through him, thoughts that would possess him until he grabbed her and pulled her into the janitor’s closet. It was when this whole…whatever…had started. So maybe it was happening again, creating some sort of cosmic shift, and he and Maria were thrown into the middle of it.

Whatever it was, it wasn’t a good thing. It made Maria behave loopier than normal and caused her to demand these outrageous things out of him that she usually let slide. Home cooked dinner? What the hell was that? He was lucky he didn’t blow up a can of baked beans.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to give her things. He did. He knew that the way one knows their name or age, easily, almost dismissively. But he wasn’t sure he could make those sorts of promises to her when he had no idea what the future held for him. He couldn’t offer her the world only to snatch it away at a moment’s notice because of who he was and where his destiny rested. He knew he wasn’t the perfect boyfriend and he never claimed to be. Michael thought Maria had come to terms with things and finally accepted him for who he was.

Maria wasn’t having any of that though. She wanted more. That damn elusive more. No further explanation or description, just _more_.

“What’s with you?” Michael asked. He glanced at her before focusing back on the television. He was well-versed in Maria moments. She would huff for a few minutes, talk about things he didn’t quite get, and then sit down next to him and rest her head on his shoulder.

Tonight, however, Maria seemed to have other ideas because the conversation did not take its typical route. She clutched the bridge of her nose and muttered, “It’s like you don’t care at all.”

This caught his attention immediately and he knew something was different. He shrugged, trying to appear indifferent, and replied, “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“You _live_ here, Michael.”

“Well, you’re here then.”

“What?”

“You’re here. Would I have you in my place if I didn’t care about you?” he replied.

“I don’t know, would you? I mean, should I assume that meant you _cared_ about Courtney?”

Uh-oh. That wasn’t a good direction for things to go in if Michael ever wanted to touch Maria again. He said, “You’re the one I care about, Maria. You’re annoying and a pain in my ass and I still stick around. I think that proves that I care about you.” Michael motioned to the television, patted the seat next to him, and added, “Why don’t you sit down? I’ll let you pick what we watch.”

“You spoil me,” she replied. Off the roll of his eyes, she threw her hands up in the air and proclaimed, “Is it a brain deficiency on your part or just me?”

“What are we fighting about now? Is this the same fight or a different one?”

“Michael, I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

“Do you really think my idea of a romantic evening is being allowed to pick which crap show we watch? Do you really think this proves how much you care about me?”

“Oh no,” Michael muttered. It had been a long week and this was not something he felt like doing. He turned around so that he could look at her and said, “I can barely afford a can of chicken soup and you want to be wined and dined?”

“I’d like something,” she replied. She shook her head and said, “This isn’t about money, Michael, or the fact that I pay for everything we do—because I don’t mind paying if it means I don’t have to suffer in boredom every single day...but you make me feel like...why are you better with strangers than you are with me? Is it really asking for so much for you to want to spend time with me?”

“When you’re not acting crazy, I enjoy spending time with you.”

Maria narrowed her eyes on his until they became two small slits on her face. He was half-expecting her to spit up pea soup or something equally dramatic, but she didn’t. That was when the weird drilling sensation in his gut started—because that was when he knew that something was off and that this was different from all those other fights. She let out a slow hiss of a sigh and asked, “Don’t you get tired of the same fight over and over again, Michael?”

She stopped talking for a minute, but the expression on her face made it clear to Michael that he wasn’t supposed to say anything. She took a deep breath and he knew that she was counting to ten to keep from throttling him. She said, “We make each other these promises after every fight. You promise me that we’ll do something fun that doesn’t involve the possible end of the world or some sort of dilemma for the intergalactic foursome.” She laughed mirthlessly and complained, “I promise you that I’ll lighten up and look at us. I’m realizing that those are empty promises, Michael. Maybe you were right all along and we’re a mistake.”

Maria folded her arms (that pose she took that made Michael quite aware of how ticked off she really was with him) and stared at him. He turned back around, shoulders slouched slightly to keep himself from throwing something, and focused his eyes on the television. He knew whatever he said would piss her off more, so he decided it safest to ignore her. If he gave her a few minutes to calm down, everything would be okay. He’d order them a pizza, he’d suffer through some stupid chick movie, and attempt to alleviate Maria’s worries with kisses.

Wrong move.

It must’ve been her time of the month or some crazy girl thing because she started crying. Sobbing even—shoulders quaking, lips trembling, tears gushing. Michael couldn’t recall a time prior to that moment that he had ever witnessed Maria cry. She was much more likely to beat him senseless or storm off in a fury than break down in tears. It was one of the things he loved about her – that she didn’t fall back on tears to get her way. She didn’t want things that way.

Her voice was shaky and soft, again unlike his Maria, and he wondered if this was a shapeshifter using Maria’s form...which, given his history, wasn’t unlikely. She asked, “Why do we even bother, Michael?”

“Huh?”

She picked up a pillow and whacked him over the head with it. He winced in pain when one of the tassels (he had told Maria several times he didn’t want anything with tassels for this very reason, but did she listen?) poked him in the eye, but he was also relieved. That was a very Maria-esque move. That was his Maria alright, and he could work with his Maria. He knew how to get through to her from time to time.

“What exactly are you pissed about right now?” Michael asked. He spoke cautiously without trying to appear that way. He didn’t want her to get the upper-hand in the argument, but he really didn’t want to witness anymore crying. He wasn’t sure he could handle that.

“It’s always the same thing. You make a promise to me that we’ll spend some time alone together, without all this alien crap, and then I show up to find you watching wrestling on television. And I find myself wondering why the hell I bother with you and why, for that matter, you even want me around if this is how things will end up?”

Michael closed his eyes. He had a feeling that admitting he understood very little of what she was saying would not be considered a good thing so instead he reached out for her hand, pulling her down on the couch next to him. Usually this was enough in and of itself, but tonight Maria was being particularly ornery and replied, “This will so not get you off the hook.”

“Maria…”

“I can’t keep letting you do this to me, Michael. It’s been the same thing since the day we met. You want me in your life, actually you don’t need anyone, okay maybe you really do want me in your life, nah it’s too dangerous, _blah, blah, blah_...do you see where I’m going with this?”

Michael took a deep breath. He knew she was right. He did tend to pull her in and push her away, but he had his reasons. He wasn’t Max. He wasn’t the perfect boyfriend type, he didn’t know if he had it him to be that for anyone, even Maria. He wasn’t good at all this icky love stuff and he just wished…he wasn’t even sure anymore. He never was sure of anything where it concerned Maria and that was part of the problem. Because he wasn’t used to his head and heart leading him in different directions. Some warrior he was turning out to be. He couldn’t even beat a girl in an argument.

“Michael?” Maria replied. When he didn’t say anything, she punched him in the arm and questioned, “Are you even listening to me?”

“Maybe if you stopped hitting me, I’d have a chance to respond.”

“Likely story.”

“What do you want me to say, Maria? You’re pissed off and I know that expression well enough to know that whatever I say is only going to make you angrier.”

“Whatever,” she replied. She stood up and said, “Sometimes I think you’re completely empty, Michael. Hollow and devoid of any ability to care about someone…” She paused and Michael was sure this was it. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it, having been through it so many times with her, but he didn’t want to lose her either. She hovered over him in what he pictured was something mothers did when they freaked out on their children and went on, “…but I know that’s not true. I’ve seen how loyal you are. I know how much you care about Isabel and Max and I guess I just wish you had some left over for me.”

He raised his eyebrow. What kind of break-up was this? And was she for real with this stuff? He knew that he wasn’t a man of many words where his feelings were concerned, but he thought it was pretty obvious that he cared about Maria in his own way. Loved her even.

She started to walk off, but he reached out and grabbed onto her hand. It struck him that if he let her go now that might be it between them and that terrified him. It also pissed him off because he had sworn he wasn’t going to be _that guy_ , not the type who got whipped by some girl because she was pretty and smart and an amazing kisser. Michael realized it was too late. He was that guy and he didn’t want Maria to stop pestering him all the time. He was somewhat attached to her constant nuisances.

He glanced up at her, willing her to look away from the ceiling and focus on him. She wasn’t going to make this easy. He said, “Don’t go.”

“Michael.”

Michael stood up and replied, “You’re really going to make me say this, aren’t you?”

“I’m not making you—“

He cut her off, placing his fingers over her lips, and took a deep breath. He could do this. He said, “Maria, when it comes to caring about people—I’ve known Isabel and Max the longest. They’re my family, for a long time they were the only people that I mattered to.”

“I know that—“

“Would you let me finish?” he snapped. He looked at the floor for a second and said, “Isabel, Max, and I had a protective wall around us and then you, Liz, and Alex came into the picture followed by Tess and Kyle…I’m trying to get better at this trusting people thing, but it’s hard.” He took another deep breath and said, “But when it comes to caring about people, you should know you’re at the top of my list. Got it?”

“Spaceboy…”

“So I’m not incredibly romantic or very good at this whole boyfriend thing, but how about we go for a ride on the motorcycle? What do you say to you, me, and the open road for a little while?”

“Do you mean it?”

“Yeah. I’ll keep my promise and get you away from all this crap for a little while,” Michael replied. He touched her cheek tentatively, half-expecting her to pull away or slug him, both possible Maria responses in any situation, but when she leaned into the caress, he placed his other hand on the small of her back and pulled her against his chest. He said, “I wish it could be a permanent fix, but we knew going in that something like that would never be possible for us.”

“I know that, Michael. I’m not looking for some miracle here, just a night or two every few months where we can pretend to be like every other couple out there, but you’ve got to trust me a bit here.”

“I do trust you.”

“But?”

Michael studied her face and admitted, “ _But_ I don’t trust other people and I plan to keep you and the others safe.”

“Let’s tackle one thing at a time here, Spaceboy,” she replied. She reached for his hand and said, “So you, me, and the open road. Where should we go?”

“We can decide that once we’re on the road.”

“Spontaneous. I like it,” Maria replied. She placed a quick kiss on his cheek and smiled as she added, “You choose a direction. North, South, East, or West. The decision is in your hands.”

“Let’s go west.”

“Good choice,” Maria replied. It was a strange thing to witness. Maria’s mood had swung from that of extreme anger to extreme giddiness. If Michael had known this was all it would take to placate her from time to time, he would’ve tried it a long time ago. She placed her hand on the doorknob of the front door and spun around, “And Michael?”

“What?”

“I don’t want a perfect boyfriend. If I did, I definitely wouldn’t be wasting all this energy on you,” she replied before bounding out the door and down the driveway.

Michael looked around as though he expected people to jump out, exclaiming that he was on _Candid Camera_ or maybe Alien Camera or something, but nothing happened. There most definitely had to be something in the air. Something that caused him to open up (sort of) and something that made him so easy for Maria to read.

He could worry about that tomorrow. Tonight he was going to ride his motorcycle with his girlfriend’s arms wrapped tightly around him, racing against the sun as it fell in front of them.

_{Fin}_


End file.
